


A Little Push

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Reconciliation, old fic, reposted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Harry and Arthur have a little talk.





	A Little Push

Harry took a deep swing from his glass, wincing as the Firewhisky burned all the way down his throat. But he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop drinking. If he stopped, he would have to go home...  
  
...back to a home without Draco in it.  
  
He scowled at the direction his thoughts had taken. The idea was to forget Draco, not pine over the insufferable git. Harry slammed the glass on the counter, not particularly caring if it cracked or not.  
  
“One more,” he called to the barkeep, hating the harsh, hoarse croak of his voice. The man raised a sceptical eyebrow but slid another glass of whisky over without a word. Over the course of two hours, most of the patrons had learned to keep their distance from Harry.  
  
Which was why when someone slid into the seat right next to him, he was understandably annoyed.  
  
“Move it,” he muttered, glaring into the depths of his glass. “I’m waiting on someone.”  
  
“Oh, thank you. It’s kind of you to save me a seat, Harry.”  
  
Harry jumped at the direct address, sloshing his whisky all over the counter.   
  
Arthur Weasley tutted and pulled out his wand, Vanishing the mess with a discreet spell. “As a general rule, I try not to drink alone,” he commented lightly. “Of course, that’s just me but if you don’t mind...”  
  
He waved the barkeep over and ordered a drink— a decisively non-alcoholic Butterbeer. Harry glowered in silence, trying not to feel like a sulky teenager who’d been caught smoking in the garage by his father. That being said, Arthur didn’t seem to be in any hurry to lecture him. He was probably waiting for the right moment.  
  
Why bother, Harry thought angrily. It wasn’t like it would change a damn thing. Draco was gone. He’d been halfway through his packing when Harry had stormed out of their flat.  
  
He would have left by now.  
  
It was over. It was really over.  
  
And all because of the stupid,  _stupid_  things he’d said, things he could never take back...  
  
Harry felt his eyes prickle. His fist tightened around the glass and he shook his head angrily. No use crying over spilt potion. His relationship was done for and humouring Arthur wasn’t going to change a damn thing. Really, he should just leave before he embarrassed himself.  
  
“We got into another fight.”  
  
The words escaped him before he could stop himself. Damn it! Harry cursed a blue streak in his head and waited for the barrage of sympathy, pity and well-meaning if ultimately useless advice Arthur would inevitably offer.  
  
“Ah,” Arthur replied noncommittally. He lifted his shoulder in a careless shrug and took a swig of Butterbeer. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”  
  
Harry winced. It sounded even worse when someone else said it. But then, everyone knew he and Draco hadn’t had the most stable relationship. Truly, it was a wonder they’d lasted this long. “He’s moving out,” he murmured. “Tonight.”  
  
Arthur hummed approvingly. “So there is some good news after all.”  
  
Harry stared, certain he had heard wrong. Surely Arthur hadn’t just...? Harry couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. When he had first announced his relationship to his extended family, Arthur had been the voice of reason. He had calmed Ron’s ire with a few stern words, gently suggested that sons were not responsible for the sins of their fathers and promised Harry he would always be family no matter what. And now, it turned out that Arthur had been rooting for him to fail too.  
  
That...somehow, that  _really_  hurt.  
  
“You don’t seem surprised,” Harry remarked.   
  
“I’m not,” Arthur said. “It was going to happen eventually. You two were all wrong for each other.”  
  
Harry felt the blood rush to his head. The voices in the bar dimmed. For a moment, the sheer shock of Arthur’s words was all that registered. “And you’ve always felt this way?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.  
  
“I’ve upset you.” Arthur clicked his tongue in sympathy. “It’s nothing personal, Harry. It’s just...I  _assumed_  you would see sense eventually, but I suppose that Malfoy boy had his claws in deep. Still, all’s well that ends well. This was for the best, I assure you. In time, you’ll see that...”  
  
“Wait, just...hold on.” Harry staggered to his feet unsteadily. He lurched and Arthur grabbed his shoulder to steady him, but Harry shook him off. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. How could Arthur— kind, genial, good-natured Arthur— say such awful, unfeeling things? Draco was not perfect, but he had certainly never ‘had his claws’ in Harry. And no matter what the state of his relationship, no matter how angry and hurt he was, Harry couldn’t just stand there and take this. Draco deserved better than this. His  _relationship_  deserved better than this.  
  
“You’re way out of line,” he informed Arthur coldly. “Draco is a good person and I  _know_  what we had was real. I can’t believe this, Arthur. I thought you understood!”  
  
“Oh, come now, Harry. Be reasonable. You can’t expect me to believe that...”  
  
“I  _do_  expect you to believe it!” Harry practically snarled. People were staring at him now; he could hear whispers in the crowd. But he didn’t care. He was angry— angry and betrayed and  _hurt_ by the man he thought of as a father. “I  _expect_ you to believe that Draco is the best thing that ever happened to me! He’s thoughtful and kind and generous and...and if you can’t see that, if you can’t see what he means to me...”  
  
“Then why are you letting him go?”  
  
Harry’s rant came to an abrupt halt. Arthur turned to look at him and those kind, blue eyes were dead serious. Harry’s ire dissipated and his shoulders slumped. The misery overtook him again and he slumped back on the stool. “I don’t know,” he whispered.  
  
Arthur chuckled and patted his back gently. “Oh, Harry. Sometimes, it’s like you never stopped being seventeen. Both of you.”   
  
Harry smiled weakly. “It’s not easy. Some days I love him so much it hurts. And other days...”  
  
“And other days, you fight,” Arthur finished. “You fight and you say hurtful things and you get hurt back. It happens all the time, Harry. But that doesn’t mean you get to pack it in when things get tough.”  
  
“But they’re really tough,” Harry mumbled miserably, fully aware that he sounded like an angsting teenager. “And I just...I don’t know if we can pull through this time, Arthur. I really don’t.”  
  
Arthur seemed to agree because the hand on Harry’s shoulder tightened firmly. “Well, that’s too bad, because you don’t have a choice.”  
  
“But...”  
  
“Harry, do you love this boy?”  
  
He wanted to deny it. In that moment, he wanted to look Arthur right in the eye and say he didn’t, that Draco meant nothing to him, that he just needed a little time and he would move on with his life.  
  
“So much,” he mumbled instead. “And just the thought of him leaving breaks my heart, Arthur. I don’t know if I can keep going on without him.”  
  
Arthur smiled and pulled him in for a hug. “Well, let’s hope you don’t have to find out. It’s not too late to fix this, Harry.”  
  
Harry clung to him like his life depended on it. “But what if we fight again?” he demanded. “What if this happens all over again and I’m too late?”  
  
“Harry, unless I’m gravely mistaken— and mind you, that rarely happens— Draco loves you too. It’s right there in his eyes, every time he looks at you. In my experience, something like that doesn’t just go away.”  
  
Harry had no idea how much he’d needed to hear those words. Tears stung his eyes and his grip on Arthur tightened. “But we always fight,” he whispered. “Why do we always fight if we’re so perfect for each other?”  
  
“Oh, my boy.” Arthur ruffled his hair gently. “Love is...love is passion, obsession, someone you can’t live without. If you don’t start with that, what are you going to end up with?” He smiled and tightened his hold on Harry. “Trust me, you’ll be just fine.”  
  
“What if he doesn’t want me back?”   
  
Honestly, after the fight they’d had, he wouldn’t be surprised if Draco never wanted to see him again.  
  
But Arthur just chuckled and patted his back. “Go home, Harry. Trust me on this. You’ll work this out.”  
  


* * *

Harry had never felt this nervous about walking into his own flat before. So he just stood outside, trying to bolster a scrap of good, old-fashioned Gryffindor courage. The moment he turned the doorknob, he would know. Either Draco would be on the other side of that door...  
  
...or he wouldn’t.  
  
Harry swallowed around a lump in his throat, turned the doorknob and walked in.  
  
Draco’s head jerked up at the sound. He was sitting on the couch, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched. His eyes were red-rimmed. A single suitcase stood next to him, still packed but apparently untouched.  
  
Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A part of him just wanted to break down and sob with relief, another part wanted to call Arthur right this second and thank him profusely and yet another part just wanted to run over and grab Draco and never let him go ever again.   
  
“I thought you left,” he whispered.  
  
“Couldn’t,” Draco replied dully. “I tried, believe me. But I just...couldn’t.” He raised his chin and glared at Harry defiantly. “If you want me to leave, I’m afraid you’re going to have to throw me out, Potter.”  
  
Harry managed a choked laugh. “I guess that’s one way to go. Shall I start with the suitcase?”  
  
Draco sneered and stood up, apparently intending to hex him. It was as good a chance as he was going to get. Harry reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into a sound kiss.  
  
Draco fought him. He snarled into the kiss, tried to shove Harry off and when that failed, he bit. Hard. Harry withstood the abuse with stoic determination. It was this or letting Draco go, and the latter wasn’t an option. Arthur had made that extremely clear. They couldn’t  _live_  without each other and if it took Harry a lifetime to convince the idiot of that simple, irrefutable fact then so be it. So, he held on with everything he had, responding to Draco’s onslaught with gentle kisses and tender touches.  
  
Fortunately, it didn’t take that long. Eventually, Draco gave out. Harry felt the moment the fight went out of his furious lover. Draco went slack and wrapped his arms around Harry, silent tears streaming down his face as he finally,  _finally_ returned the kiss.   
  
“I’ve got you,” Harry promised thickly, holding him close. “I’ve got you, Draco. I love you.”  
  
“Love you too,” Draco managed through shuddering sobs. “Never again, please. Please...”  
  
“Shh,” Harry whispered, running a gentle hand through his hair. “I can’t promise we won’t fight again. Because we will, Draco— you know we will.”  
  
Draco sniffed and tightened his hold but he didn’t argue.  
  
“But I promise,” Harry continued, “I promise I’ll never let you leave again. Whatever happens, I swear we’ll work it out. I won’t let you go. I won’t let this go.”  
  
“I won’t let you,” Draco replied fiercely. “I  _won’t_. You can’t leave me...because if...if you do, I’m not...I don’t think I can...”  
  
“Shh,” Harry broke in, soothing him with gentle hands and quiet murmurs of affection. “I’m here. I’m yours forever, yeah?”  
  
“Forever,” Draco mumbled in agreement. His grip slackened and his shoulders relaxed. He sighed and burrowed into Harry’s chest.  
  
Harry smiled softly and gathered up his exhausted lover. It would be okay. They were going to be okay.  
  
“Come on,” he whispered, leading Draco to the bedroom. “Let’s go home.”  
  


* * *

Arthur returned to his own home of twenty-five years in a better mood than he’d left it in. Molly glanced up from her knitting as he entered. Her warm, brown eyes lit up on seeing him and as always, the sight made Arthur smile.  
  
“Did you talk to him?” she asked.  
  
Arthur leaned over to give her a chaste kiss. “He’s a smart lad,” he told her. “He just needed a little push.”  
  
“Thank Merlin.” Molly sighed in relief. “Those two are lost without each other.”  
  
Arthur sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I know the feeling.”   
  
Molly smiled and smacked his arm gently, but she didn’t refute a word he’d said. Why would she? She had been there too. She had been right alongside with him, as they made their way from a fluttering romance to a commitment so strong, that not even the Fates themselves could shake its foundations.   
  
Sometimes, even the best relationships floundered. Everyone needs a little help now and then. But Arthur Weasley had enough love in his life to know it when he saw it— and he saw it clear as day when those boys looked at each other. They would be just fine, he was sure of it.  
  
All they needed was a little push.


End file.
